


Sleepover

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Break Up, M/M, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from a Pinto sleepover. Takes place post-Beyond press tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seepunkrun (Punk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk/gifts).



“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“What, are you kidding? You’re always welcome here, man.” Chris dropped a reassuring hand on Zach’s shoulder and held it there a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “Stay as long as you want—it’ll be like a slumber party.”

Zach’s smile was oddly shy.

“To be honest, it’ll be nice to have someone around.” He scratched his nose. “After the hustle and bustle of the press tour, I don’t usually like being alone.”

“Really?”

“Doesn’t seem logical, right? But I miss having people around. It takes a while to get used to… I dunno, just being me, I guess.”

“Remind me to get you a pet.”

“You will do no such thing. I travel too much. You’re lucky—you have someone you can trust to look after them.”

Zach scratched the tip of his nose. “Yeah. Trust.”

Chris ignored the wistfulness in his voice for the moment. If Zach had something he wanted to tell him, he would in his own time. “One thing I need to do is go shopping—there’s no food in the house.”

“Want company?”

“Sure.”

\----

“Gorgonzola or Danish Blue?”

Chris looked at the vast array of cheeses Zach already had in his basket—it was enough for an army let alone the two of them. “You know what I really like.”

“Don’t’ worry, I’ve got two containers of burrata already. Come on, choose.”

Chris wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really like either.”

“Neither, then.” He tossed them back.

“Get it if you like it, though,” Chris protested, but Zach had already moved on. “Ooo! Ricotta salata—I’ll get that for the pasta.”

“Pasta?”

“I’m cooking dinner for you, to thank you for letting me crash.”

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it—I don’t have to, I want to. How do you feel about calabrese olives?”

“I am pro. Probably.”

“Great!”

\----

“More pasta?”

Chris rested a hand on his stomach and tried not to burp. “No, god, I think my stomach may burst.”

“Hope you saved room for dessert, I’m making zabaglione.”

“What? Zach—“

“Where’d you put the strawberries?”

Chris failed to repress a whimper. “On the top shelf in the fridge.”

“Excellent.”

Some minutes later, Chris carried a pile of dishes into his kitchen and placed them in the sink. Zach stood at the stove stirring something in a bowl set over a pan of steaming water. “You really are making zabaglione?”

“I like to cook for someone who appreciates it.”

Chris refused to read between _those_ lines. “I definitely do.”

“I know.” He smiled, an expression that simultaneously lit up his face and made him seem softer. Chris smiled back, and turned to the sink to do the dishes.

“This is nice, huh?” Zach said a moment later. “Domestic.”

“Mmm.”

“Comfortable.”

“Sure.”

“Like real people.”

Chris didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

\----

“Yoga pants?” Zach asked as Chris emerged from the bedroom.

“Consider it a testament to your delicious cooking.” Zach was pleased by the comment, which pleased Chris. “What movie did you choose?”

“I saw you had a screener for that new Wes Anderson film. Did you watch it?”

Chris sank into his favorite corner of the couch. “I haven’t had time to watch anything.” Zach slotted the DVD into the player and crawled over to sit on the floor not far away. Chris wordlessly handed him a pillow, which he hugged to himself as he brought his knees up.

Chris shut the lights off as the film started, watching the flickering light from the television reflected in Zach’s eyes. It had been so long since they’d done something like this—had a movie night or had dinner, just the two of them. They used to do it all the time when they were younger, before Zach moved to New York. He was surprised for a moment to realize how much he had missed it, but then the credits were finally done and the film was starting, and he forgot all about it.

\----

“What is this stuff again?”

“Beard oil, you massage it in after a shower, then use the brush to groom it. Keeps everything tidy.”

“Smells good.”

“You want it? I have another bottle around somewhere.” Chris opened a cupboard, looking.

“That’s OK.”

“Use it in the morning, then. After your shower. You’ll never use anything else.”

“I don’t use anything else.”

“What? Then how do you get it so soft?” Chris was no longer able to keep his hands to himself; he stepped into Zach’s personal space so he could run his fingertips over his beard.

Zach’s eyes twinkled with mirth, watching him. “It just is, man.”

“Lucky!” Zach’s eyes tracked his hand as he pulled it away.

\----

“So wait, what was her name?”

“Rachel, but she preferred ‘Raquel.’”

“Was she pretty?”

Zach shrugged. “If you go for that kind of thing.”

“And why did you even ask her out?”

“She was my mom’s boss’s niece or something, in town for the summer. I was supposed to show her around.” He rolled his eyes. “My mom thought my lack of interest in girls was because I was a late bloomer, and I went along with it. Boy were we both wrong.”

“Still, you kissed her. How’d you like it?”

“I mean, I thought it was good at the time, but what the hell did I know? I think she thought she was good at it.”

“Was she?”

“In retrospect, yes? I mean, empirically speaking, she had good game. Soft lips, not too much saliva, creative use of tongue. I’d give her an eight out of ten.”

Chris laughed. “I can’t believe that was your first kiss!”

“Well, what was yours, then?”

Chris rolled his eyes; this was the least interesting childhood story ever. “Bethany Dombrowski in the sixth grade. She was Snow White in the school play, and I was the prince.”

“Playing a Disney prince from an even younger age than anyone thought, why does it not surprise me?”

“Shut up, it was like mandatory and I swear the teacher cast me because she had the hots for my dad.”

“Ew.”

“Right? Anyway, ol’ Bethany suggested we practice the kiss outside of rehearsal, because we kept freezing.” He paused. “I mean _I_ kept freezing. She was fine, I was the one who was all nervous about it. So I went to her house after school, and they had this pool house in the back. It was more like a garden shed, but it was next to the pool, so that’s what her folks called it. So we go in there and the place is packed solid with lawn furniture.”

“When was this?”

“It was like February. Anyway, so I’m thinking I’ll be a gentleman, and I pull this chaise out, and we sit on it, and she just sits there, with this look on her face, like _expectant_. And I get super nervous, right? Like, I can barely breathe and my heart’s going a mile a minute. I mean, she’s not my crush or anything, but she’s cute enough? So I make my move, like lean in like this?” Chris leaned forward from the waist, toward Zach who was seated a couple feet away on the other end of the couch; they were nowhere near close enough to kiss or even touch, but Chris was aware of the strangeness of it anyway. “And she’s maybe a little too far away, but I lay it on her, you know, romantic as fuck, but I’m leaning too far over. And I slip.” He demonstrated, letting his wrist buckle beneath him, and pitching forward onto the couch. Zach blinked down on him, an avid look on his face. Chris twisted around to look up at him. “She falls back, the back of the chaise overbalances, and we hit the pile of furniture behind us, which comes crashing down on top of us. That’s how I got this scar.” He sat up and lifted his hair, showing the spot on his hairline where the corner of a chair had caught him.

Zach, who had burst out laughing, stopped for a moment to inspect the scar. “Impressive.”

“You don’t know the half of it—she wound up with a sprained wrist and couldn’t play Snow White. Her parents flipped out and I got demoted to Sneezy—like, it wasn’t even my idea. Stop laughing.”

“Impossible,” Zach insisted, and snorted again.

\----

“Zach.” Chris sat up, blinking against too-dry contact lenses. Zach’s face was smushed into the arm of the couch, a drooly stain darkening the fabric beneath his parted lips. Chris shoved his hip lightly to wake him. “Hey come on, wake up so we can go to sleep.”

“I was asleep,” Zach informed him grumpily.

“Your back and neck will thank me.” Chris stood and pulled on Zach’s limp arm. “Come on, the guest room awaits. You know you love that bed.”

“So comfy here.”

“You’ll be comfier there.”

Zach groaned but sat up. “Fine.” He pushed himself to his feet and followed Chris down the hall, bare feet slapping lightly on the hardwoods.

Chris switched the lights on and headed for the en suite, to be sure there were clean towels. “OK, I think you have everything you need in there. Come get me if you don’t.” He walked toward the door, but Zach didn’t step aside to let him pass, so he stopped. Zach opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. “Everything OK?”

“He’s moving out,” Zach blurted.

Chris’s stomach lurched. “What?”

Zach crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, hands pressed together between his knees. “That’s why I haven’t gone back to New York yet. Miles is moving his things out. We ended it.”

“When?”

“Before we left for Asia.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I mean it’s not really about you—“

“That’s not what I mean. Zach!” Chris sighed and sat down on the bed beside him. “You shouldn’t have had to go through it alone, I mean, you know how you get.”

“How do I get?” He had tears in his eyes.

“Weepy.” How had he managed to hold this all at bay for the last ten days?

“As long as we were on the tour, I could pretend it hadn't happened.”

“Jesus, come here.” Chris pulled him to him with a single arm; his head rested heavily on Chris’s shoulder. He listened to Zach breathing for a few moments, feeling helpless to do anything but rub his upper arm.

“There’s going to be a press release tomorrow,” Zach said eventually.

Chris flinched. “Christ, is that necessary?”

“He wanted it, since it’s a high-profile thing.”

Chris snorted.

“You think it’s stupid.”

“I think a lot of things are stupid, it doesn’t mean I’m right.”

 “So what step are we up to here?” Chris asked after several more minutes. “Hashing over the details of the break-up? Dragging him and his friends, what? Chocolate ice cream? Because I mean I’m still pretty full, but I can make a heroic try.”

Zach laughed wetly and slid an arm around Chris’s waist. “I would settle for not having to sleep alone for one more night.”

Chris squeezed him tighter. “That is going to be a lot easier for me than chocolate ice cream.”

\----

Chris sat up in the bed in his guest room, Zach sprawled and asleep beside him. Zach was what Chris liked to call a “violent sleeper,” tending to throwing an arm, thrashing a leg, and twisting a torso. It never looked restful to him, and there had been a few times he was surprised he hadn’t come out of sharing a bed with Zach with a black eye.  

Zach had asked if he’d stay until he fell asleep, and Chris couldn’t say no. It was been years since they’ve been intimate, since they decided that being friends was more important than launching themselves into a relationship neither of them was ready for at the time. Still, Chris was always surprised to realize how welcome Zach’s presence was beside him. He didn’t miss it, exactly, but he liked it very much when he had it.

Zach was still his favorite person in the entire world, and he felt happy when they were around each other. He knew others had picked up on it, had heard the comments in the press and among fans. He’d have to be blind not to realize it.

What others thought meant nothing to him, he reflected as he reached out to rest a hand fondly on Zach’s warm head. They were friends, and nothing would shake that.  

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
